40K RPG Imperial Side: Act 1

[KaKlick]

Stell heard the trooper's weather prediction and looked around for a thermostat of some kind before reminding himself that he wasn't on Ryksos and inside its hives anymore. He left Yukoll and the Marine to talk and nodded at the heavy weapons specialist.

"How soon, do you think?" he said, his harsh, gutteral accent heavily apparent. "I've yet to understand how open weather works..."

Stell hated admitting his lack of knowledge with anything unique to hive worlds, but he also realized the need to know these things in order to apply them to battle plans and field tactics. He was unique to most Ryksans in this aspect, as most of the men and women of Ryksos would rather cut off an arm rather than admit any weakness another could exploit.

[warpvortex]

Lister turns and looks at the Commissar will a dismal look held up by his face.
"It’s hard to know for sure when the rain will hit, the weather is always unpredictable on when it shows its wrath. But, going by the way the climent is now... I predict 3, 4 hours tops. Unforchantly for us my I might add, the 1st attack wave should be upon our border defence line by this time. This heavy down pour of rain will help aid the attackers for they will be obscured by it." Replies Lister in a more serious tone.
He looks down on his Bolter
looks like the tide of war is already against us. Shame, I was looking forward for a nice cup of joe after this.

[Arctophylax Faren]

Trooper Lister clearly had an affinity with his weapon, something that the Lieutenant had always tried to encourage in his platoon. It made the bearers feel more comfortable in combat, having a familiar ally in their hands with which to spit hot death at an oncoming enemy. Yukoll smiled as he sipped, impressed with Lister's description, and was about to follow his pointing hand to see what was behind him.

The booming voice from behind filled his ears, and Yukoll almost choked on his water with surprise. He fumbled quickly with the cap and turned on his heel, bringing his hand into a sharp salute.
"Sir." he said, maintaining his gesture for a few moments before bringing both hands behind his back. He had to crane his neck to look the marine captain in the face. "Of course, sir, how can I be of service?"

[Skringly]

Electus gestured with his hand for Yukoll to follow him, as they walked neither man said anything, all the while the sound of the talking men behind them growing fainter. Making sure that there was nobody else in earshot Electus turned to Yukoll looking down at the smaller man with a grim look on his face.

“I have received a vox transmission from Chaplain Borriel back at Claustrum.” he said, taking one last look to see if they were alone. “He reports that the Chaos forces have already begun their assault on the city. Further more this guaranties that there will be an attack at this station.”

Lieutenant Yukoll’s eyes widened slightly, but he allowed Electus to continue. “Unless the enemy commander is truly a fool he will have already sent a strike force to neutralise this facility.” Electus said gravely pointing out towards the horizon. “At best I estimate we have an hour at the most before the enemy arrives. And as you hold the highest rank within the guard here, I want you to make sure they are ready. However I shall assume overall command of this station, and I want you to make it clear that your men will perform the tasks set by my battle brothers, or myself without question. Is that clear?”

Electus didn’t wait for a response, as he strode off to find his four battle brothers.

[Ziggy Tempest]

Arla appeared silently as the Angel of Death retreated to commune with his armoured brethren. His grox-leather trench coat was torn in several places amd adorned with strange symbols in others. The most striking of these was the ornate 'I' which stood proudly on the coat's collar, beneath the scarred face of it's owner. "An hour until they regret ever coming to this planet Liuetenant." He spoke in a gritty, unrefined tone. "I feel the turning point in this engangement will come soon, and we will be better for it."

[KaKlick]

Stell nodded at the trooper's prediction and watched as the Lt finished his conversation with the Astartes. Vycktor moved purposely forwards in front of Yukoll before coming to attention and snapping a parade ground salute.

"Junior Commissar Vycktor Stell, reporting," he said. "High command assigned me here temporarily while they determine my permanent position."

OOC: Sorry for the short post. Still kinda shaken up from today.

[Drakdylon]

The orange-armored scout, sitting with his back to a cluster of sandbags, listened carefully to the words of the Guardsmen who had gathered outside the command bunker. With his genetically enhanced hearing, the gift of his Lyman's Ear implant, Drakdylon could comprehend their speech even though they were at least thirty feet distant.

"It's gonna rain you know..." said one of the group.

Rain. Wonderful. thought Drakdylon sarcastically. Rain never makes anything better. But I suppose it'll be welcome enough, if only because it'll wash off all this blasted grime from me!

The scout unholstered his autopistol then, checking the clip. It was full. He slotted it back into the receiver and then re-holstered the pistol, making sure to flick the safety switch to the 'on' position. He hated this, this waiting before the storm. Better for battle to come instantly. Better to fight and kill and win and be bathed in the glory of warfare than to wait, grimly running over the possibilities in your mind.

What chance did they have? How could they hold this station against an entire army of the Dark Powers? Drakdylon had seen the creatures that fought on the side of the foe. They were utterly monstrous. Utterly foul. Utterly evil. Battling them was a constant fight not just for survival, but for sanity.

And that made it all the more exhilarating when you came out on top, when you buried your knife in a heretic's throat as he tried to spear you with a rusty bayonet. When you shot a crazed man down as he rushed your trench. When you lobbed a grenade into a thrashing mass of tentacles and watched the whole thing explode in a shower of gore. When you came out alive.

But then again, no one ever truly came out of battle alive. Even if your body survived a fight, a little part of your soul died.

That was warfare.

From the left, Drakdylon heard more voices. It was the Imperial Fist leader. A fine soldier, that one. The scout was reassured by his presence. He was talking with the Guard Lieutenant, a world-weary man, but honorable. Broken snatches of their speech drifted through the air, barely reaching Drakdylon's ears.

"...vox transmission..."

"...begun their assault..."

"...sent a strike force to neutralise this facility..."

So they're coming then, though Drakdylon. For certain.

"...we have an hour at the most before the enemy arrives."

That's it then. An hour. The orange-armored scout smiled grimly. This time, the wait wouldn't be so unbearably long.

[Arctophylax Faren]

The weight of responsibility seemed heavier than ever for Lieutenant Yukoll. As the news sunk in and the marine departed, he stood dumbfounded for a moment.
"You can count on me, sir." he called after the marine. There were so few marines at the station, and efforts here were critically important. How was he to break the news to the troops? Prepare quickly for a massacre? Relatively speaking, the area was lightly defended, and the best they could hope for was a relatively small attacking force. The archenemy had an advantage of numbers, but mercifully most were little more than humans. Heretics and traitors, but humans nontheless.

Lieutenant Yukoll found his thoughts quickly turning to the defence, and images of maps and troop positions ran through his mind. There was an awful lot of information to digest in such a short amount of time, and the last thing his forces could afford was to be caught flat footed. The marine Captain's estimate was an hour. In terms of practicality, that meant they had half that time to prepare, or they would suffer. With a surging sense of duty, Yukoll tugged at the hem of his fatigues, pulling them straight under his armour, and prepared to return to the bunker to fetch his vox operator. A shadow fell across his path before he could move.

It was the second time the Lieutenant had been caught off guard, and it worried him. Once the shells started flying, he doubted surprise appearances would bode well for his health. The gleam of an Inquisitorial badge caught his eyes first, then the ruined face of man bearing it. He wasn't sure whether to salute or not; the man didn't give off an air of authority. While dark, the man's words were at least optimistic for the Imperium's efforts. He certainly had one thing right - that a monumental factor in the war would be decided at this station. Though personally, Yukoll wasn't yet sure whose favour it would be in.
"I hope you're right." he said to him, a resigned expression on his face. "It's going to be one hell of a storm when they arrive. We've got a lot of preparations to make."
Unsure whether he had the authority to ask anything of the Inquisitorial agent, Yukoll decided to press his luck gently.
"What's your area of expertise? Reckon you could make use of any of the Guard units?"

With that, the stomping of heavy boots announced the approach of the Commissar. It was the same man he had seen earlier, obviously a new arrival. Must've been on the latest in-shipment, but no-one had told him to expect a representative of the Departmento. Warily, he eyed the black garmented man, but gave him a respectful salute. He never knew what to expect with Commissars. So far, he'd managed to keep his nose clean in front of them, but his long-standing reputation of disregarding orders he felt were mis-informed made him feel uneasy to have one shadowing him. Thankfully, he was the highest ranking Guard officer at the sation, at least the marine Captain had told him such, which meant he could drop the Commissar out of earshot of command talks. Perhaps dump him near the front to ensure no-one broke under the first enemy assault wave. Emperor knows he'd be thankful for the discipline.

"Comissar Stell, good to see you." he said sincerly. "I'm Lieutenant Ferran Yukoll, I wish we could've met under more pleasant circumstances. Perhaps even over a drink."
There was a slight, but warm undertone to his words, despite the haggard look in his eyes.
"Fact is, we're up to our neck in it." It was a blunt statement, but he felt he could share the tactical information with the Commissar and the agent. "I've just spoken to the marine Captain here, and he gave confirmation of an enemy detachment moving in force on this position. Seems they've realised the significance of the station, and I doubt they'll shed a tear for trying to slaughter us all. I don't want the men alarmed, not just yet, but we do need them prepared. The command channel will be Omecron, keep an ear on it. You can cut the channels and contact me on my private comm on channel Echo-62." All the while, the issue of time hung at the back of his mind like a dead weight, and he felt like he wasting precious seconds already. He was hoping his face didn't show it.

"Commissar, you're the highest ranking man I've got, so do what you need to. My sergeants have been hand picked for the level headedness, so they should have your back and give a solid account of themselves. I'd appreciate you taking yourself to the front of the defences, we're going to need the voice of the Emperor up there once the traitors show themselves." he said with a slight nod towards the Commissar's holstered weapon. As for the Agent, he intended to give him room to do what he did best.
"Agent, take what you need from our stores and feel free to commandeer a squad if they'll help. I trust whatever it is you're here to do, you'll get it done faster with some support. Anything more I can help you gentlemen with?" he spoke calmly and honestly - he'd never been one for hostilities unless he had good reason, even with the Commissariat and Inquisition. Basing each on their own merits was a personal quality that had yet to let him down.

[warpvortex]

Lister, looks at the over the sand bags and towards where the first defence line was stationed.
Bet some of them are wishing to be placed up here right about now. Poor guys
A sound of an explosion whistled through Listers ear, from the far north east.
Arr, good old leman russes. Never got enough of that smell that they carry around whith them.
As Lister was thinking this, his finger was busy tapping on and off the trigger of his H.bolter, of course he put the safty on beforhand.
Looks like its starting Lister grinned with excitment.
He looks at the Lt with confusement none the less and ponders, why he hasn't told anyone of this important factor.
Meh cant blame him, looks like he's been put in alot of stress laterly.

[Ziggy Tempest]

"I prefer to work alone," responsed Arla to the offer of command. It was true he had never lead a unit since an incident on Karal V which resulted in all of their deaths. Arla had a certain luck for staying alive, but those around him tended to make up for it. "If we survive this battle, then I will see to it that your men get my advice on dealing with the forces of chaos, but now we haven't the time and I must find a vantage point. I'll vox in when I see the advance parties." Arla lifted the rifle from his back to show the Liuetenant, "My speciality is as a Marksman." With this the Inquisitorial Agent took his leave to find a suitable vantage point atop the tallest building. He found this a few minutes later, the top of a comm tower which gave a clear view of the surrounding area and the guardsmen below.